


i'd probably still adore you with your hands around my neck

by lonesomeramen



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-25 20:34:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21362281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonesomeramen/pseuds/lonesomeramen
Summary: Connor comes over to help Hank rake the leaves in his backyard. He ends up staying for longer than he would have expected.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 17
Kudos: 221
Collections: Hankcon & Other Ships Halloween Exchange





	i'd probably still adore you with your hands around my neck

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fromthebeginningthen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromthebeginningthen/gifts).

> I took part in the Halloween Fic Exchange, and here's my work for the lovely [fromthebeginningthen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromthebeginningthen) <3 I hope you like it friend, I'm sorry I kept you waiting.
> 
> Big thank you to [thiriumcupcakes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thiriumcupcakes) for beta reading this and being such a wonderful friend!!
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

"Today is leaf raking day, Hank." 

Connor is standing at Hank’s doorstep, a gentle smile gracing his features. The morning sun touches his face, turning it even softer and more beautiful than it usually is. His neat camel jacket and cobalt scarf make him look like he’s straight from the cover of a fashion magazine.

The cold autumn air creeps into the house through the open door. Hank winces and motions for Connor to come inside.

"A what?" 

You have mentioned four times during the last week that you need to rake the leaves in your backyard," Connor explains as he follows the man inside. "I offered you my help, which you reluctantly accepted. We both agreed that Saturday would be a good time for this activity. Therefore, today is the leaf raking day."

Hank knows they did talk about this, but he can’t quite recall setting up a specific date. It’s way too early for any of this. He has no idea what the hell he was thinking when he scheduled this leaf nonsense for Saturday. Must have been dead tired and unfocused, or maybe it was just Connor’s charm and persuasion skills.

He knows it was the latter.

One glance out the window reassures him that it’s a perfect day to stay inside and keep warm, not fight the leaf apocalypse in his backyard. Hank sighs as he watches Connor kneel down next to Sumo to cover his forehead with gentle kisses. The dog’s tail hits the floor rapidly, joy radiating from his entire body.

Hank groans as he knows he’s unable to say no. 

\-----

"Where do you think you're going?"

Connor's voice is displeased, like a teacher reprimanding a student. Hank frowns at him, half disbelief, half amusement.

"Backyard? To rake the leaves?"

"You're not actually going out like this?" Connor is standing with his back against the front door as if to barricade it.

"I am, though? Something wrong with my outfit?" Hank's voice has a tinge of annoyance to it now.

Connor scans him up and down, his brow furrowing as if he's trying hard to bite his tongue. "No. It's just rather cold outside. You should--"

"I'll live." Hank nudges him in an attempt to make him move but Connor does not budge. He should have known that the android would never let him go out in the cold wearing just a hoodie.

"Hank, please," Connor says, his voice the perfect pitch to stir the man's heart and make sure he's got him wrapped around his finger. "I'm worried about you. I don't want you to catch a cold."

And Hank would never say that out loud, but Connor’s words soften his edges and make his heart ache with longing; longing he tries to pretend isn't there, but is way too loud to silence.

"Fine. Jesus," Hank groans and backs out. "Fucking pain in the ass is what you are."

"You don't really mean it."

And Connor couldn’t be more right. It's been so painfully long since anyone has cared about Hank this much, and yes, it is a little annoying. Yes, it takes some time to get used to, but most importantly, it makes him feel so warm inside he almost allows himself to believe there’s something more to it.

Almost.

\-----

Hank slips into his coat, feeling both Sumo and Connor eyeing him. He likes to believe his dog loves him, or at least tolerates him, but the way Connor looks at him feels like a complete mystery. His soft, patient smile is unlike anything he would give to their co-workers or friends from Jericho.

Hank huffs and turns his back on Connor and Sumo, feeling heat crawling up his neck. "Sorry. No fashion show for you two."

Connor chuckles, a breathy sound sending butterflies to Hank’s stomach. The man zips up his coat--a beautiful parka in a shade of red resembling a ruby. Something Hank would never get for himself, something he would never think he deserves--a gift Connor got him not long ago. He hates to think about how much money he must have spent on it, but the android had refused to tell him no matter how many times he asked.

Granted, his old coat was in grave need of being replaced, but the weight of this gesture and how happy Connor seems every single time he sees Hank wearing it--it makes his heart feel so heavy. 

"You really shouldn’t have gotten this for me, y’know,” Hank mutters.

"I should have," Connor protests, then turns to Sumo to scratch his head. "He looks very handsome in this coat, doesn’t he?”

Hank wonders if Connor is unaware of how the things he says stir Hank's heart like a goddamn earthquake. Is he doing it on purpose? He might be a sassy piece of work, but he wouldn’t toy with Hank’s heart like this. Not his Connor.

He immediately berates himself for his choice of words. Not his. Connor’s not his.

\-----

Hank approaches the two still eyeing him from the couch. Sinking his hand into the softness of Sumo's fur comes naturally. Patting Connor’s shoulder is a lot harder.

"Thanks again," Hank says, giving him the smile he doesn't give to anyone else. "For--the coat, I mean.”

Connor puts his hand over Hank's and squeezes softly, a gesture that speeds up the man's heart rate in seconds. "You're still not properly dressed."

"Do I look like a doll for you to dress up?" Hank complains, mostly to take his mind off Connor’s hand still grasping his.

"No, but you do look like someone whose well-being I care about.”

Hank opens his mouth in protest but closes it just as quickly. The pleased smile he gets from Connor in return is a finishing blow.

He sighs and shakes his head. After years of loneliness and grief, having someone who cares so deeply doesn't feel real. "I give up. What else should I wear?" 

Connor's smile is so bright, it warms Hank's heart way more efficiently than any piece of clothing. "A beanie and a scarf."

"Okay. You're kidding me right now. Have you ever seen me wearing a beanie?"

"No, but I'd like to."

"You’d like to--have you ever considered why I don't wear beanies?"

Connor's LED spins yellow for a few seconds while he processes his answer. His brow furrows in a way Hank would never admit he finds adorable. 

"Is it because you never take care of yourself?"

"Yeah--Jesus, no," Hank groans, and finally retracts his hand from Connor’s shoulder, lamenting the loss of touch. "I would just look really fucking stupid."

"You wouldn't," Connor assures him, his LED going back to soft blue. "Your health is the most important, and I think you'd look rather charming in a..."

"Look," Hank interrupts him, trying not to look flustered. Failing. "A scarf. No more. I know you refuse to learn how to compromise, but consider it a starting point."

Connor pouts, an expression closely resembling Hank’s own when he’s upset. "Fine."

"There we go." Hank laughs and can’t resist giving his shoulder one more affectionate squeeze.

Hank might have won the battle, but he knows the war is ongoing.

\-----

"Found it."

Hank blinks in disbelief. His bedroom looks like the aftermath of a hurricane after Connor has dug through his closet in search of a scarf. The android does not seem fazed in the slightest; his outstretched hand offers Hank a black acrylic scarf.

It's warm and delightfully soft to the touch, and Hank appreciates the fact that its color does not attract attention like the coat. "All right," he mutters before throwing it around his neck in a loose loop.

It fails to appease Connor as he clicks his tongue in annoyance. If his expression could talk, it’d be screaming I’m tired of your shit. He grasps the scarf, and his sudden closeness is enough to make Hank’s heart thud in his chest.

"I'm just going to rake leaves in my goddamn backyard," Hank groans, but he doesn't make an effort to escape Connor's grip. "It's not like I'm going on a hike to Alaska."

"It has to be properly tied around your neck," Connor stresses. "Otherwise it won't protect you from the cold."

"I gotta be the most patient guy in the whole fucking city of Detroit."

Connor lets the jab go right over his head as he begins the scarf procedure. His slim fingers move carefully, as if he was dealing with something delicate. He wraps the soft fabric around Hank's throat, taking his time, making sure it's comfortable but tight enough to keep him warm.

And despite feigning annoyance, Hank’s heart melts watching the android like this, focused on something that many would see as insignificant. But not Connor. This is so important to him, Hank realizes. He is important to him.

That knowledge feels like a lump stuck in his throat.

And Hank could cry because of how badly he yearns to hold those gentle hands, keep them warm and safe and adored. 

He thinks about how he'd accept every fate from those hands, how he wouldn't think twice about drinking poison if they were the ones offering it.

\-----

Connor seems more at ease when the scarf is properly tied around Hank's neck. Enduring the dressing up was more than worth it; as endearing as Connor's scowl is, Hank much prefers to see him happy.

And then Connor's hands reach out to Hank's coat, zipping it up before the man has a chance to react.

"I'm not senile yet, y'know," Hank laughs, but holds no anger in his heart. "Could have done it on my own."

"Of course." Connor smiles in a placating manner and backs off a little, as if afraid he has overstepped the boundaries. Were there ever any boundaries set between them, though?

Hank closes the distance between them by pulling Connor in for an embrace. He hopes it shows the depth of his love and gratitude, the feelings he's not able to put into words. Connor is quick to react, wrapping his arms around Hank and burying his face in his chest.

What was supposed to be a quick hug is in fact Hank selfishly holding onto Connor until it no longer feels appropriate.

\-----

Hank is struck by the beauty of the day as soon as they get outside. Faint morning sun rays peer out from between the clouds, compensating for the cold wind. It is more than chilly, and Hank won’t say it out loud, but he feels so grateful to Connor for forcing him to dress warm.

The air is fresh and crisp, something Hank loves the most about the season. The smell of fallen leaves and moist soil soothe the man’s mind when he breathes in. He hasn't been able to appreciate small things like these in years.

Sumo prances out of the house after them and starts sniffing around, his tail wagging slowly. Hank shares a smile with Connor as they watch him trot through the fallen leaves.

Connor's deep blue scarf complements his look, and Hank has difficulty taking his eyes off of him. "I, uh…" Hank starts as they walk towards the backyard side by side. "I like your scarf."

Connor smiles and runs his fingers through the fabric. "Thank you. It reminded me of the color of your eyes."

Hank blinks, unable to utter a single word. He's acutely aware of his heart rate and of how fucked he would be if Connor was scanning his vitals at that moment. How does one even respond to a person so genuine and kind?

From the corner of his eye, Hank notices Sumo preparing to roll in something on the ground, and he swears he has never been so grateful to his idiot dog for creating a distraction before. 

"Sumo, no. Bad dog!"

He leaves Connor's side to drag the dog away from whatever got him so interested. Making a dog his weight move is not easy, not in the slightest, but as soon as Connor joins in, Sumo gives up and abandons his earlier plans to roll around in smelly unidentified objects.

Hank breathes out, pretending to be upset. "Goddamn menace."

"Don't call him that," Connor says, his tone accusatory. Hank swears that his scowl really is the most endearing thing he's ever seen.

\-----

Hank shuffles his feet, watching the sea of colorful leaves decorating the ground. A beautiful carpet of yellow, orange, and red moves under the man’s shoes, rising and falling. Connor is kneeling on the ground next to Sumo, comforting him with soft strokes. The dog pays more attention to his scarf rather than to him, trying to nibble the fringe. Hank laughs, shoving his hands in the pockets of his coat and getting lost in the scene.

Connor gets up eventually, trying to shake off the dirt from his jeans. His face scrunches in annoyance. “I placated Sumo. I believe we can start raking the leaves now.”

"Sure, boss."

Connor hands him the rake, and Hank tries not to get too hung up on the way their fingers brush. He can’t help feeling that Connor did it on purpose.

“Uh…” Hank shoots a quick look at the backyard before he looks back at Connor. “You take care of that side and I’ll do the other.”

“Sounds good to me,” Connor says, something mischievous hiding in his smile. “Try to keep up."

Hank scoffs. “Think you can do it better than me, smartass?”

“Naturally.” Connor smirks as he tucks stray curls under his beanie. “No offense to you, Hank, but I am superior in pretty much every--”

“Quit bragging and get to work.” Hank waves him off and grasps his rake.

\-----

They work in silence, only accompanied by the rustling of the leaves and occasional birds chirping. Sumo is seated not too far away, watching their efforts, as if he is the one to judge who's doing a better job. 

There is no comparison though. Hank quickly finds out he's no match for Connor's resilience, his strong arms and muscles that do not ache no matter what. The android doesn't break a single sweat, while Hank can feel the fatigue creeping up on him and begging for a break.

Connor seems to notice, as he slows down his movements and looks at Hank with concern. "Do you need to take a break?"

Hank huffs, desperate not to show how out of shape he really is. "Nah. I'm good."

The android does not look too convinced, but he continues working until he notices something that makes him stop.

"Oh." Connor puts the rake against the fence and kneels down again, his jeans be damned. "Sumo, look what I found!"

Hank squints as he tries to make out the object in Connor's hand. The familiar squeak he hears soon after helps him realize it's his dog's toy they've been searching for for the last few days.

They. Connor's been such a constant presence in his life and at his house, it's impossible to imagine anything happening without him anymore. 

Sumo trots towards Connor, his tail picking up a happy rhythm when he spots the toy in his hand. He sniffs it, then carefully--so that he doesn't bite Connor's fingers--sinks his teeth into it, causing it to let out another pathetic squeak. Connor smiles as he initiates a game of tug-of-war with the dog, not letting him reclaim the toy.

Hank is unsure whether Connor got genuinely distracted, or if he's giving him a head start--he doesn't know which one of these he finds more endearing--but he takes advantage of it anyway. He goes back to raking his part of the yard until a medium sized pile forms itself before his eyes.

Connor rises to his feet, having let Sumo win the game and march off with the toy. He glances at Hank, and his eyebrows rise in genuine surprise.

"You're doing amazing, Hank." He praises him without a hint of irony in his voice. "Your heart rate is elevated though. You should take a break."

Hank nods and is more than happy to sit down on the porch. Connor joins him shortly after, their shoulders pressing against one another. He's so soft and warm, Hank fights the urge to lean in and rest his head on his shoulder. 

He locks his tired eyes on the piles of leaves they have raked instead. "So who won?" 

It is nothing more than a rhetorical question. Connor's leaf pile is bigger and neater, which is easily visible even for someone who's been avoiding the eye doctor as long as Hank has.

Connor just smiles at him, and it looks as if he's barely holding back a laugh. 

"Yeah." Hank nudges the android a little too roughly, causing that suppressed laughter to burst out of him. "Sure. You beat me as usual."

"Don't take it personally, Hank." Connor nudges him back. "It's hard to beat perfection."

\-----

Hank goes back inside, longing for some warmth and a mug of hot tea. He rubs his cold hands together and breathes air into them as he waits for the water to boil. He's surprised Connor hasn't tormented him with the idea of wearing gloves.

He peeks through the closed kitchen window and watches Connor play fetch with Sumo. The squeaking of the toy is muffled, thank God for that.

Connor has graciously put both leaf piles together, creating a big one. Hank leans against the window and thinks about how he could get used to this. Could get used to this being his life, Connor being in his life. Connor as something more than his friend.

Hank sighs and shuts his eyes, allowing the thought to soothe him into a pleasant daydream. He reaches for the kettle, but then he notices it's become strangely silent. The squeaking has stopped.

He looks out the window again, relieved to find that Sumo has abandoned the toy and is now sniffing around, his nose pressed to the ground. Connor turns around and waves at Hank as soon as he notices him at the window. The man swallows, slightly embarrassed by the fact he was caught staring, but waves back nonetheless. 

His eyes shoot wide open when Sumo decides the leaf pile looks like a good thing to jump into. 

Hank rushes out of the house, the sound of Connor's laughter welcoming him back outside. He shakes his head in disbelief as he now witnesses both Connor and Sumo in the pile. 

"You gotta be shitting me," Hank groans. "I slaved over these fucking leaves for so long, and now you both sabotage my efforts!"

Connor pays no mind to his complaints. He’s sitting in the pile, chuckling as the dog continues to scatter the leaves around.

"Connor."

"Come on, Hank. We’re having a good time.”

"Good time?" 

Hank steps closer, still shaking his head. His expression softens as he notices how happy Connor seems. His joy is so genuine it has no problem melting the ice in Hank’s heart.

As Hank gets to share a moment like this with the two beings closest to his heart, he knows he would not trade their happiness for the world. He knows it’s what home feels like.

Before he even has a chance to say something, Connor grasps his hands and pulls him down into the pile.

The next thing Hank knows is that he's collapsed on top of the most beautiful person in his life, his heart in his throat, Connor's face dangerously close to his.

The way Connor's eyes shine in the morning sun is almost too beautiful to be real. His lips quirk up in a small, hesitant smile. A quiet breathy laugh escapes him when Sumo bumps his cold nose against Hank’s cheek.

What comes after that brings Hank's brain to a halt. Connor wraps his arms around his waist, carefully pulling him in for a quiet embrace. He feels so soft, Hank thinks as he shifts reluctantly. He isn't allowed to have this. He isn’t allowed to feel this happy, this--right.

The embrace doesn’t last for too long as Connor senses the silent discomfort in his partner; he releases him from his grip soon after. Hank scrambles to his feet clumsily, almost slipping on the damp leaves in the process. His heart is racing in his chest, threatening to jump out at any moment. 

Connor looks up at him from where he’s still seated in the leaf pile, his eyes studying his expression. There is some distant sadness to his eyes now, and Hank can’t bear the sight.

The silence stretches out between them. Sumo partially crawls into Connor’s lap, wagging and making the leaves fly off in all directions. Not for the first time, Hank thinks about how he envies the damn dog, how freeing it would be to be able to express love so easily.

Connor scratches behind Sumo’s ear. The smile has disappeared from his face, and Hank had no idea how much it’d hurt to witness that. There’s a tightness coiling in his stomach, urging him to act, to do something, anything, before it’s too late.

“I’m sorry, Hank,” Connor says. It’s quiet and frail, and only stirs Hank’s heart further. “I should not have overstepped the boundaries.” 

It makes Hank feel like screaming at the top of his lungs right where he’s standing. What boundaries? Connor stepped into his life without asking permission a year before, not knowing better. Hank allowed him to take over his heart. It has been that simple.

Connor would always be brave. Now it feels like Hank has to step up and be the brave one out of the two. The mere thought terrifies him to the core.

Running away is easier, and so much more familiar.

\-----

The silence is overwhelming. Not hearing Connor’s voice and his laughter, not seeing his smile-- it hurts, it hurts. Hank stares at the television, not caring about it, and yet unable to take his eyes off of it. He forgot about the tea he had been making, forgot about the biting cold stinging his skin. Everything turned perfectly empty just like the bad old days.

He left, ran away like a goddamn coward--leaving Connor to deal with the void and a messy backyard. It makes him feel dirty, makes him hate himself more than he ever has.

The door opens hesitantly, as if Connor is unsure whether he’s still welcome. It tugs at Hank’s heartstrings, screams at him to get up and hold this beautiful man in his arms, never let him go.

Sumo is there at Connor’s side, but he quickly makes himself scarce and disappears into Hank’s bedroom. Whether it’s fatigue plaguing his old bones or the tense atmosphere in the room that makes him leave, Hank can’t tell.

"Thanks for helping out," he chokes out after a prolonged moment of silence. "I…shouldn’t have left you to do it on your own.”

“It’s quite all right. I don’t mind.”

It fails to placate Hank, the way Connor says it, his face not lightening up, his tone meticulous and distant. Hank immediately misses the warmth of his voice and his features.

Connor stands in the hallway, looking quite lost, despite the fact that he must know Hank’s house by heart by now. The sight is too much to bear. Hank’s heart prods him into getting up, and so he does.

“Hey,” Hank says, carefully trying to approach Connor like he's a wild animal. “Sit down. I--I don’t mind your company.”

He immediately winces at his own words. An understatement, if he’s ever seen one. But Connor nods silently nonetheless and shrugs off his jacket. 

They sit down, the distance between them way too proper and stiff. Hank can’t help but think of all the moments they spent there, on that trusty old couch. Minutes, hours. Chilly mornings and evenings devoid of hope.

The tears Hank has shed, the words he has allowed to slip out of his mouth. The times Connor held him close and did not judge him.

Hank isn’t quite sure what to do with himself. Neither of them speak about the tension in the air, and Hank cannot stand the unnatural distance Connor is keeping from him.

It makes him feel sick to be so close, yet so far away from him.

So Hank acts before his mind can catch up with him and convince him it’s not a good idea. He shifts closer to the android and places his hand on his shoulder.

The way Connor flinches under his touch convinces him it was not a good idea.

Hank finds out that it’s possible for Connor to move even farther from him. He searches for his eyes, and he finds them lit up with embers of resentment.

“Hey.” Hank barely gets the words out of himself. It feels like he’s losing him, and every single thing he does makes it worse. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” Connor repeats, voice eerily similar to Hank’s and sending a shiver down the man’s spine. “Why is it suddenly acceptable for you to touch me whenever you wish, but when I'm the one to touch you, you run away and treat me like I'm nothing?"

Hank swallows and stares dumbly, taken aback by how scandalised Connor looks, and how he's not able to disagree with anything he says. 

He clears his throat, rubs the back of his neck nervously. “Connor, I...”

“Why did you react like this? Am I really this off-putting?"

"What?" Hank chokes out. Connor is slipping through his fingers. Soon he will be gone, and Hank will feel emptier than ever before. "Listen, that's not the case."

"Then what is it?" Connor demands to know, boldly looking into Hank's eyes. 

Hank can't stand the weight of his stare, his eyes still so warm despite their anger. He looks away.

"You don't want to know."

Connor's hand suddenly grasps Hank's chin, turning it around so that he's facing him again. His touch is gentle, yet firm. Hank's face burns with embarrassment as Connor holds it in place, choosing to touch him without much consideration for what he thinks about it. 

"I do," Connor stresses. "Why can't you just tell me?" 

"Cause I'm a fucking coward, Connor," Hank says, and admitting it stings more than he thought it would. The android blinks, surprised by the sudden confession. He releases his grip on Hank's face, his fingers brushing the man's beard slowly before backing off. 

And his expression softens, so slightly that it could be missed by someone who doesn’t know him well. But Hank notices, and his heart throbs with hope.

“That’s not true," Connor says. “You are the bravest person I know.”

Hank scoffs, but there's this warmth pouring into his heart again, the warmth he's missed so much. He wonders what it is about Connor that makes him feel weak, as if he could move the whole sky and rearrange the stars if Connor only asked him to. 

"That's bullshit and you know it." Hank smiles, devoid of joy, not daring to avoid Connor's eyes again. 

"You risked everything you had for the future of androids. You put your life at stake, for..." Connor cuts off, looking more and more distraught. "For me."

Hank watches him silently. All of this is true. It's not something he can deny, but it all happened so quickly he can barely remember it. Risking his life for Connor felt more right than anything else in his life back then. 

"You went through something exceptionally difficult and I won't ever be able to understand the pain you've felt. But…" Connor treads carefully, his warm eyes focused on Hank. "You're here. You're trying. And though I still have so much to learn about this world, I think that's called bravery."

The words envelop Hank like a warm embrace, overwhelming him. There is more patience and kindness in Connor than he will ever deserve, but it only makes Hank love him more.

Hank doesn’t quite acknowledge the tears running down his face until Connor gently wipes them away with his hand. He lingers there, soft fingers against Hank’s cheek, and suddenly the man is so grateful that Connor took this liberty of touching him again.

Connor has always been the brave one, but maybe--maybe this time it could be a little different. 

“It blows my mind, y’know,” Hank lets out a breathy laugh. He feels his heart pounding in his ears. “The way you look at me. As if I was the most gorgeous thing in the world.”

As if.

And he can tell that Connor wants to say something--deny him? So Hank raises his hand in order to stop him.

“You wanna know why I freaked out in the backyard?” Hank sniffs, watches as Connor nods. He barely acknowledges the fact that they have both moved closer to each other. “Because it gave me the illusion that something could go right in my miserable fucking life. That something I want so badly could be mine to keep."

Connor's brow furrows. The earlier anger has left his features for good, leaving them soft and kind. 

Connor's hand travels up to Hank's face yet again, causing an upheaval inside the man's heart. He does not fight it, only breathes out and leans into it, reveling in the way Connor caresses his cheek. 

"And what is it that you want?" 

Connor's voice pierces through him, shakes him to the core. He could swear he's trembling with the yearning to wrap his arms around his neck and press their lips together. 

"I don't want to be your friend," Hank says, voice barely kept from shaking.

Connor blinks, his eyes widening like those of a frightened animal. And Hank is just as scared, scared that he's inevitably going to lose him. The silence between them is so overwhelming Hank barely notices he has stopped breathing.

"You're avoiding my questions," Connor points out, failing to conceal the nervousness in his voice. "I asked you what you do want."

Hank doesn't know the words, and he can't seem to find them in Connor's eyes. Expressing love should not be this hard, he thinks to himself.

"I'm sorry," Hank whispers, tilting his head slightly so that their noses brush.

He almost gasps when Connor's fingers curl around his, gentle and hesitant. Connor glances at him, his eyes questioning whether a boundary was crossed. 

Hank reassures him by pressing their foreheads together, softly, and Connor does not object to it whatsoever. On the contrary, he leans into the touch. The grip on Hank's hand tightens. 

Brave, so much braver than Hank could ever be.

"I have another question," Connor says.

Hank breathes in, his heart thudding in his chest. Connor's face is so close to his own it terrifies and thrills him at the same time.

"Yeah?"

"Can I kiss you?"

Connor’s words are enough to make Hank feel as if his lungs are deprived of air, burning him thoroughly. His face heats up with the warmth of a million suns.

"You don't have to ask," Hank chokes out. Connor's hand is his lifeline, he thinks as he caresses it with his thumb.

"I do have to," Connor says as he pulls back just a little bit to make their eyes meet. His gaze is so genuine it messes with Hank’s head. "Consent is very important."

And Hank can't help but chuckle, a small sound stuck in his throat. Connor's kindness has always been too much for him, unbearable almost, and now this, his gentle eyes full of adoration and soft fingers laced with his own.

“Yes.” The words barely leave his mouth. “Please do.”

The approval makes Connor’s eyes light up with something so beautiful Hank feels utterly lost, seeking no exit from their depths. He sucks in a breath as Connor’s hand cups his cheek.

Connor leans into the kiss at once, pressing his lips against Hank’s in a wordless longing. Hank’s hand wanders to the nape of Connor’s neck, bringing him closer. Connor’s affection is delightfully tender.

Any remains of the autumn’s cold melt away under the warmth of Connor’s lips. The kiss is insecure and unskilled, but Hank would not trade it for anything else in the whole world. Nothing could compare to how beautiful this is, how Connor’s hand belongs in his perfectly. 

Hank has not been touched with such reverence in years. His heart is so full of love, he can barely keep it from overflowing.

Connor’s lips couldn’t possibly feel any softer. He does not break the affection, keeping Hank’s face in his hands. And Hank realizes how fucking ridiculous he is, but he wishes he didn't need to breathe so that kissing him could be his only concern in the world. 

He does need to breathe though. 

Hank pulls Connor back gently, his hand resting on his neck. He takes a deep breath, partially for oxygen, but mostly to calm down his heart beating wildly in his chest.

Connor blinks, a clear streak of embarrassment painting on his face. "I'm sorry," he smiles, retracts his hand from where it was cradling Hank's face. "Sometimes I…forget."

And Hank understands that almost too well. There are so many things that elude him, too. The fact that he hasn't known Connor for his whole life seems to be one of them. 

The fact that Connor's smile is brighter than the sun is another one. 

"It's okay." Hank can't help but chuckle at the situation, but the sound dies in his throat as soon as he notices the shift in Connor's expression. 

His features are suddenly creased with worry, the light at his temple a faint yellow glow. Hank reaches out to touch his face but hesitates, letting his hand hang in the space between them.

"Hank, I…" Connor's mouth twitches. He does not resemble the same person who had his lips locked with Hank's just a few moments ago. It's as if he had been acting out of raw need back then, and now the weight of his actions is starting to sink in.

"Is this what you wanted?" 

Connor's voice is full of hope, gently scraping on the surface of Hank's heart. His eyes gleam with yearning, and Hank wants nothing more than to press his lips against his neck and whisper it's all I want. 

"It is. But only if you want it, too."

And Hank is not quite ready for what comes after that, but he can't bring himself to complain about anything with the warmth of Connor's arms around his waist and his cold nose burrowing into his neck. 

\-----

It is just as chilly as before, and Hank can see his breath in the crisp air. He revels in the feeling, watching the autumn in his backyard from where he's seated on the porch.

Sumo is snoring quietly in Hank’s bed, or, he was when the man left the house. All that good time must have tired him out, in the end.

Hank breathes warm air into his hands and starts rubbing them together when he notices Connor's eyes focused on him; his most beloved eyes in the whole world.

"May I?" Connor gestures for Hank's hands as he squeezes in next to him. 

Hank lets his hands slip into Connor's with less hesitation this time. He knows he'd do anything for him, anything Connor would ask him to. This request is no different. "No need to ask permission, you know."

Connor smiles as he grasps one of Hank's hands and starts planting small kisses against his fingertips, marking them with the warmth of his lips. Hank watches him and he swears he has forgotten how to breathe. 

Connor repeats the kiss therapy on Hank's other hand until the man can't remember what it felt like to be cold in the first place. The android's fingers move on to massaging Hank's hands with more tenderness than Hank would have ever expected from him. 

Hank can't help but crack a smile thinking that not wearing gloves was very much worth it in the end. In fact, the thought makes him so giddy he can’t help chuckling.

He feels so blissfully happy.

The joy is contagious, causing Connor to smile just as brightly. "What is it?" 

"Nothing." Hank squeezes Connor's hands softly, does not try to fight the love blooming in his heart. "Nothing at all."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Hit me up on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/lonesomeramen).


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